


Seven Minutes in Heaven

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was probably the wine.  Or the game.  Or because he realized Gilbert wanted them there just about as much as Lovino wanted to <i>be</i> there.</p><p>It might’ve simply been that heartbreak looked surprisingly good on red eyes and pale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Prumano Week 2015's day 3 prompt: movie night/sleepover. Edited by the best Mano. Her name is [Afflitto](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Afflitto) here, check her out cuz she's mad talented.
> 
> You should read it because there's porn at the end.

At 2 AM, the party was still in full swing. Upbeat chatter filled the cozy loft apartment, broken by the occasional burst of laughter and clink of glasses pushed together. The cheer of victory and groan of defeat after the latest round of high stakes Mario Kart. There were too many people for the small space, but no one seemed to mind cramming together on second hand couches. Or each other’s laps. No one except for Lovino Vargas.

4 hours ago he had claimed the single overstuffed armchair for himself and he hadn’t moved since. Nursing only his second glass of wine, he kept his knees drawn to his chest and a withering scowl cemented in place. His gaze passed from smiling face to smiling face and he resented each and every one.

There was Alfred across the room, the plucky underclassman who had dragged him here—dragged him here and then dropped him at the door, promising he’d be back to introduce him just as soon as he finished his round of hello’s himself. That was at 8. Sometime around midnight, a happily drunk Alfred finally remembered him, but he barely got through a slurred “Hey, have you met—” before turning to vomit in a nearby potted plant and excusing himself to go sober up a minute in a back room. When he returned a half hour later, Lovino was once again forgotten.

Not that he needed introductions, it turned out. Aside from the angry looking blond man and his soft spoken little sister who had left hours ago, Lovino knew or at least recognized everyone in attendance.

Next to Alfred sat the quiet Asian man he knew was an acquaintance? Friend? Of his little brother. He couldn’t quite remember his name—only that it had something to do with cars. But since he hadn’t asked after Lovino, Lovino had taken to calling him Toyota Camry in his head. He figured it was close enough.

On the other side of Toyota was, unfortunately, the muscle bound potato sucker that his brother had the balls to call his boyfriend. He had been there when Lovino and Alfred had arrived, and the mere sight of him was enough to make Lovino’s stomach turn. That’s when his brother— _his brother of all people_ —popped up behind him, throwing his arms around him and rambling on about how great it was to see him and had he said hi to Ludwig and he didn’t know he was coming tonight and it was such a great surprise and had anyone told Gilbert they were here yet? Before Lovino could process any of it, Feliciano flitted back to Ludwig’s side and there he had stayed the rest of the night.

Worse than finding tweedledee and tweedledumbass was looking out from the doorway and locking eyes with Antonio. Of course Antonio knew Feliciano—he had grown up looking after them both—but listening to them talk, it quickly became clear that whatever it was they were so cheerfully reminiscing about, Lovino had not been a part of. When had those two gotten together without him? What could his brother and best friend have been doing that he couldn’t have been a part of? A pang of jealously stabbed at his chest and flushed his cheeks. He wanted to storm over to him, scream his feelings and make a scene. He almost had, except for the presence of the scruffy, long haired man whom he didn’t know lounging pretty next to his friend. He lavished Antonio with affectionate touches and fleeting kisses. He never left his side. Whoever he was, he was obviously someone pretty damn important to Antonio.

Antonio had never mentioned a thing to Lovino.

Thinking about it now made his head pound and his eyes sting. He ripped his gaze off of Antonio’s guileless smile and downed the rest of his wine in one long drink. It settled heavy in the pit of his stomach. A new round of laughter swept up the group and he thought he might be sick.

He stood, muttering something about a refill that fell on deaf ears, then pushed and padded his way into the kitchen. There was one thing the party had going for it: the alcohol was surprisingly high class for a group of college students and a master’s student or two. His third glass was gone the way of his second, but he paused when pouring the fourth as another set of voices caught his ear. A man laughed softly, with a strange musical lilt. Then a woman’s voice cut in in a language he didn’t understand, and a second man joined in the first’s mirth. Peeking around the corner, he saw Roderich, the music studies TA who wandered around the fine arts building when not pounding away on any piano he could find, and the beautiful woman always on his arm that Lovino had always assumed was his girlfriend. Roderich turned down the hall but the other lingered, pressing close to whisper in the second man’s ear before breaking out into giggles and flouncing out after the first.

Gilbert Beilschmidt. About him, Lovino knew: his name, that this was his apartment they had all made themselves at home in, and that he was probably a giant douche. Gilbert paused at the door, taking his time to latch it securely, and Lovino took that as his chance to escape. Clutching his half-filled wine glass to his chest, he scurried back through the kitchen and into his seat. Feliciano waved and Antonio caught his eye and smiled, but he ignored them both. Not a moment after he settled himself did their gracious host pop back in, smile too wide and laughter too bright.

“It’s after 2 and you’ve all been drinking, so you know the rule: no one—”

Alfred cut him off with a roll of his eyes, “Yeah, yeah we _know_. No one leaves until morning. Thanks, _mom_.”

Gilbert ruffled his hair as he walked past. “You know, you turn into a shitty teenager when you’re drunk.” Lovino was surprised when Antonio and his companion parted and allowed the third man to squeeze himself between them on the loveseat that was clearly only meant for two.

“You forget, Beilschmidt, he is a shitty teenager,” Nissan Altima—wasn’t that his name?—replied, tone soft but certain. “You can’t expect more of him than he has to offer.”

This earned a guffaw from around the room, drowning out Alfred’s cries of protest until he too fell into laughter with the rest. Even Lovino snorted into his glass, amused at the torment of his friend.

“You all suck.” Alfred fell back against the couch and sulked.

“Aaaaanyway,” Gilbert said, “Elizabeta says that if so many of you are staying, we should play one of those slumber party games that kids do.” He looked around the room. “Any suggestions?”

The man on his left, the one who had been nestled on Antonio all night, smirked. “Naked Twister has always been a favorite of mine,” he crooned, though his gaze traveled past Gilbert to Antonio and he winked.

“Ew, hell no. No one wants your dick in their face, Francis.”

“Tonio wants my dick in his face.”

“Only because Arthur gave it a test drive,” Alfred cut in. Bruised ego forgotten, he eyed the trio on the other couch triumphantly, a silent challenge to prove him wrong. “Art told me Tonio’s always been good at picking up the pieces of whatever he leaves behind.”

A chorus of ooooh’s traveled the circle, but Lovino was lost again. Apparently Alfred hit the mark, judging by the general clamor of the group and the hot pink blush steadily creeping over Antonio’s face. Lovino didn’t know who Arthur was or what he had to do with Antonio, but it was a big fucking deal to everyone else. Even Feliciano was whispering something to Ludwig that caused the other to snort in response. Rejection churned his stomach and furrowed his brow. He fidgeted in his chair. He wanted to leave.

It was Gilbert who settled things. Somehow there was an authority to him when he spoke; something in the way he straightened his back and raised his voice had Lovino sitting forward, eager despite himself to listen. “No one’s putting their dick in anyone’s face and that’s final. Besides, I don’t even own Twister so it’s a moot point.”

A murmur of agreement passed through the room. There was silence for a beat, then,

“Pillow fight?”

“I don’t own enough pillows.”

“Ooh, how about hide and seek?”

“It’s a two room apartment, Antonio.”

“We could braid each other’s hair and talk about our feelings.”

“Alfred, my god, shut the fuck up.”

“We could play spin the bottle!” Feliciano bounced in his seat. Beside him, Ludwig looked mortified. “Oh but—I don’t want to kiss anyone other than Ludwig, so…”

Alfred shot in the air, hand raised like a school boy. “I know! I know what we should play!” He paused for effect before declaring, “Seven minutes in heaven! And since it’s Gil’s place, he gets to go first.” Alfred stared him down, smug.

“…Alright, fine.” Gilbert stood, dusting his jeans and smoothing his shirt with an air of practiced nonchalance. Lovino wondered if anyone else noticed the twitch in his fingers or the strain in his jaw. “Anything to keep you from screaming about it. My neighbors will call the cops, you dick, and if I get a citation, you’re paying for it.” He walked as far as where the hallway met the living room and leaned against the wall there.

Alfred waved a hand. “Jesus, you’re such a hard ass. Learn to live a little, why dontcha?” He teetered in a circle, dangerous on less than sober feet. By some miracle he did not fall. “But who to send in there with you…?”

Antonio shook his head, drawing the other man, Francis, back to his side. Francis looked amused but held up his hand to pass also. The Asian man kept his head down. Ludwig practically pulled Feliciano into his lap. He kept a possessive hand clasped on his knee.

That caught Alfred’s attention. His grin grew to a cruel smirk and he pointed a finger at the two. “Feli! You don’t mind sharing, right Luddy, old buddy, old pal?”

“Hell no!” Lovino jumped out of his seat. All eyes in the room turned to him. Lovino swallowed past the embarrassment and let his outburst carry him, “Didn’t you hear what he said? He doesn’t want to play your stupid game, and nobody else does either.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it,” Alfred said, solemn. He walked to Lovino and held him by the shoulders. “I get that _you_ just volunteered!”

“What!?”

“No, no. Don’t try to get out of it now.” He shoved him unceremoniously towards the back of the apartment where Gilbert waited. “Into the closet you go!” Alfred zipped around the pair to the bedroom and opened the closet door. He gave them a wink as they stepped through, then slammed it shut behind them. The last thing Lovino saw were the curious faces of his “friends” watching from the hall. None of them had said a word.

“God fucking _dammit_!” Lovino shouted at nothing. He stormed to the back of the cramped space, putting as much distance between him and the offending party as possible. His back thumped against the wall and he slid to the floor. “They didn’t even try and stop him,” Lovino whined to himself, voice muffled against his knees. Tears stung sharp at his eyes. They threatened to spill over with each shuddering breath.

Gilbert stayed with his ear pressed to the thin wood. He did not speak. A heavy silence blanketed the pair, broken only by the tap of the taller man’s fingers and Lovino swallowing back his sobs. After what seemed like an eternity, the faint sound of conversation faded into something far away and they were alone.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us,” Gilbert sighed. He sat across from Lovino. “What a dick…”

“Shut up,” said Lovino. He hoped Gilbert’s eyes had adjusted enough that he could make out his sour glare. “Who even are you, anyway?”

Gilbert tilted his head. “I’m Gilbert? Ludwig’s brother?” He sounded so incredulous. “I know we don’t talk much but I’ve been around as long as your brother has been dating mine.”

“Yeah well, I try not to pay attention whenever he’s around—it gives me a fucking headache.”

“Toni was right, you do have an attitude problem,” Gilbert laughed, thin lips twisted into a sarcastic smirk.

Lovino’s temper flared. “How the hell do you know Antonio anyway? And Alfred and that snooty guy from the music department and—“ He crawled forward, kneeling in front of him and leaning far too closely into his face. “Stupid jackass friend stealer.”

Gilbert’s face fell. This close, even in the dark Lovino could see the flash of irritation behind his eyes. “What are you, 13? No one told you to sulk in the corner all night. That was your own dumbass decision, Lovino.”

He— He knew his name? That was a surprise. Before Lovino could come up with a response, Gilbert continued,

“I’ve known Antonio since we were kids. Me, him, and Francis used to raise hell.” He looked wistful for a moment. A smile almost touched his lips before he hardened again. “And that ‘snooty guy’ is my cousin, and he’s been married to Elizabeta since they were 5 years old. Honestly, I’m surprised you know him.” The unspoken accusation lingered in the air. 

‘Since you haven’t even tried to talk to anyone tonight.’

“I’m sorry if you’re having a shit time, but it’s your own damn fault. We’re all fucking adults here, and no one wants to put up with your bullshit middle school drama.”

At least Lovino had the wherewithal to look ashamed. It was difficult to keep feeling sorry for himself when this perfect stranger was throwing it all back in his face. “Seen him around school, is all… S’always playing the piano and shit…”

Gilbert nodded, gruff. “He does that.” His expression softened again and he asked, “You’re a student, then?

Tentative, Lovino answered, “Yeah, in grad school.” When Gilbert kept staring he hurriedly added, “I paint.”

“How old are you?”

Lovino blinked. When had this become an interrogation? “I-I’m 26. How old are _you_?”

“27.”

“Bullshit.”

“Alright, fine. I’m 32.”

“You’re old as hell,” Lovino snorted. He sat back on his heels. Gilbert was biting his lip and he wouldn’t meet his eye. “And you never answered my question about Alfred. Also what’s with that Toyota kid—”

“You mean Kiku? Kiku _Honda_?” Gilbert laughed—not the booming roar Lovino had grown used to throughout the night, but a softer, scratchy sound. It fit better somehow, Lovino thought.

“Whatever,” he huffed. “I knew it was a car.”

“True,” the other man consented, “And at least you picked a Japanese car. Kiku is Ludwig’s friend, and I guess he’s known Al forever too. I don’t know, I never asked. He’s been around a lot, so I guess you could say we know each other well enough. “He paused and took a breath. “As for Alfred, I used to tutor him when he was in high school. After that he just kind of stuck around. Fuck if I understand what goes on in his head.”

It was strange, the way he talked about his friends. All night long he had been the center of attention—and seemed happy for it—but here, now, he sounded… irritated? Like he was upset they were even there. But he had been the perfect host all night, social and talkative and loud and _annoying_. Resentment came easy when in Lovino’s head he had been the jerk. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“This whole damn thing is Alfred’s deal.”

“W-wha?” Lovino hadn’t been paying attention, lost to his own thoughts.

“Having everyone over tonight. It was just supposed to be Toni and Francis, but he caught wind and… here we are.”

Lovino didn’t have an answer. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he was “here” in the first place.

Gilbert sighed. Restless fingers carded through unkempt hair before resting at the nape of his neck. “I just got out of a pretty shitty relationship. If you could call it that even. Everyone keeps telling me it’s for the best—and I know that, fuck do I know that—but it’s just… I want those years back.” He frowned, spitting acid, “I wasted all that damn time and I’ll never get it back. And what’s fucking worse is he was kinda my boss, so I lost my job too. I just wanted one night— _one night_ —to get wasted with a couple of my friends and try and _process_ , but now I’ve got a house full of people to take care of and everyone in my business and it’s all a load of _bullshit_.”

Lovino kissed him.

It was probably the wine. Or the game. Or because he realized Gilbert wanted them there just about as much as Lovino wanted to _be_ there.

It might’ve simply been that heartbreak looked surprisingly good on red eyes and pale skin.

And when Gilbert started back, Lovino grunted and pulled him closer by the collar, fighting against a hard body and an unwilling mouth.

After a beat, Gilbert relented to his lips and drew him into his lap, and Lovino moved easily with him. It was a hungry, desperate kiss, with teeth knocking together where they didn’t belong and Lovino breathing heavy through his nose because he couldn’t bear to break away. He had no choice though, as strong fingers pressed bruises into his hips and splayed possessive at the small of his back.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he panted into his ear. He dug his nails into Gilbert’s neck. 

Sharp teeth scraped against his jaw. “Don’t be.”

They kissed again, intimately familiar in the way that only strangers can be. It tasted like beer and stale breath and everything Lovino knew he shouldn’t be doing. His body burned under his touch. Heat pooled in his stomach and he knew Gilbert must’ve felt the swell of his cock, caught between their bodies as they moved. Gilbert bit down into his shoulder, exposed now where his shirt had pulled past his arm, and Lovino threw his head back and moaned.

“ _Please_ —”

A wandering hand cupped him roughly through his pants. Lovino ground his hips into his touch, mouth hanging open in a silently plea for more. He struggled with Gilbert to get his pants open, lust drunk fingers fumbling for purchase. He groaned again, in half frustration, half need, and Gilbert brought a finger to his lips.

“They’ll hear you,” he whispered, voice cracking with need of his own. Lovino bit his lip and nodded.

Satisfied, Gilbert wrapped his hand around his cock. He gave one, two experimental strokes before working his way into a steady rhythm. Lovino’s gripped at coarse hair, sweaty skin, a strong back. His fingers wouldn’t stop shaking. His legs squeezed around Gilbert’s waist in time.

“Fuck, fuck… I can’t…” Gilbert’s name spilled past his lips, hoarse and reverent. He spread sloppy kisses to his neck, stifling himself against his skin. Gilbert’s hand slipped, tightened around him. Lovino, unable to hold back, bucked up into the tight heat of it. Again and again until climax seized his body, burning through him like wildfire as he emptied himself into the other man’s palm.

Gilbert pressed his face to the crook of his neck. Lovino heard him grunt, and a moment later felt hot damp spreading against his ass.

“Gross…”

“Hn.”

They sat in silence then, Lovino limp against him. Embarrassment trickled into his post-orgasmic bliss, and he buried his face into Gilbert’s chest. If heartbreak had looked good on him, then rebound sex smelled even better.

“Seriously, you came in your pants?”

“Where the hell else was I supposed to?”

Lovino didn’t have an answer to that. He exhaled slowly, eyes closed. Soon enough their seven minutes would be over. Back in the living room, they’d have to pretend like nothing happened. It was too late for Lovino to fully redeem himself, but he could at least start by introducing himself to Antonio’s boyfriend… guy. Gilbert would have to wait until morning, he guessed, to let himself go. He found himself closing a fist around the soft fabric of his shirt, wishing with not a small part of him that everything would be okay.

“Hey…”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Did you really just thank me for giving you a quickie handjob in my closet?” Lovino felt more than heard Gilbert’s laughter rumble in his chest.

“If you don’t like it then I take it back. Ungrateful bastard.”

Gilbert laughed again, louder this time. It was sweet and sated and it made Lovino’s stomach flip. “No, no. I’ll take anything I can get.”

“That’s fucking right you will. Jerk…”

Yeah, Lovino thought, everything would be okay.


End file.
